


Eidos

by HappyCaracal



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Recovery, Sentinel/Guide, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCaracal/pseuds/HappyCaracal
Summary: Ignis should have known that reality was never easy. After dealing with a Council that wants him gone and a rebellious Prince, he thought he had gotten rather used to the stress. Being a Sentinel made it slightly harder; enhanced senses were useful, no doubt, but he often found it cumbersome amongst the daily hustle within the Citadel. When a prisoner is brought in from Niflheim, he believed the incident to merely be another hiccup in his busy life.But the Astrals are not so kind. And with the prisoner comes the horrifying realization that MTs are not robots or daemons, but instead Guides so shattered that they tear through the minds of those they encounter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> eidos: a Greek term referring to "essence", "form", "type", or "species"  
> -In Platonism, this is used to denote an idea
> 
> Hello! This was intended to be a short one-shot, but it rather got away from me. I decided to split it up into chapters for better formatting, so here is the first portion of a story that I hope to continue with you guys! I'm very new to the Sentinel/Guide genre, so my apologies in advance if I have twisted it up horribly!
> 
> That being said, I'm always open to feedback! Let me know what you guys think!

            To those unused to Ignis and his manner of writing, the report summary would have appeared innocent and unassuming from just a glance. Only the fact that it was resting on Noctis’ table away from the others denoted its significance.

            Upon being read, one could note the way the words wavered, as though placed by a trembling hand. Noctis understood the sentiment, as he struggled not to let his own hands dissolve into shaking at what was written before him.

            Ignis had much practice in noting what was necessary for the Prince to grasp the content of the meeting and intel presented, and there was implicit trust between them that nothing would be missed. Opinion would be left on the wayside until they met to discuss. Noctis was required to receive his reports free of bias.

            That trust ran even deeper than summarizing the reports. While Gladio’s Sentinel instincts were much more obvious, Ignis could be trusted to be discreet. And, of course, the instincts were there nonetheless, and while Noctis was not bonded to either of them, they would lay down their lives if necessary to protect their Prince.

            He sincerely hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but the report in his hands was blaring evidence that all was not well. The atrocities presented could not be allowed to stand.

            It began with a note on the patrol outside the Wall and who had been present. The names were of no particular importance, though Noctis recognized the hero Nyx Ulric amongst the list before moving on. Wandering the wasteland where the outskirts of the city used to be, they discovered two individuals: Cor Leonis, returning from an infiltration of an Imperial base, and a young man in tow. The Marshall insisted that he see the King with information of deep importance, but there were rules in place. The young man he was with needed medical attention and supervision while Cor was occupied, and the individuals guarding him could not be Guides or Sentinels. No visitors. While the request was unusual, that in itself was not alarming, as other nations were known to have differing attitudes towards those with a differing sensory input than Lucis.

            What _was_ alarming was the news passed on to the King, which was shared with the Council on orders that the information was absolutely not to go public. Cor had discovered in the depths of Niflheim the origins of Magitek Units. The suspicion and general belief was that Niflheim was making MTs through advanced robotics, while confidential intel suggested that they were once human, promoting a case of daemon and human experimentation. The Marshall had uncovered, however, that the Starscourge wasn’t the catalyst in the situation; instead, Niflheim was torturing Guides until they were broken, their empathetic abilities warping with the other shattered MTs to create a cohesive network of fear and suffering. Through this outpouring of pain, they influenced not only the other MTs, but those they faced, terrifying them as to be impotent.

            Any unbonded Sentinel would be helpless to such an onslaught. Almost a third of the Glaives and Crownsguard would be rendered useless. It wasn’t as if their kind were outrageously rare.

            On top of that, they could distort the emotions of any other Guides as well, forging a backlash against their empathetic senses. Those they were supposed to Guide would go as mad as them, once their emotions lost control. It would be havoc.

            As a Guide himself, the thought shook Noctis to his core.

            And amongst it all was the man Cor brought back, almost of equal age to Noctis himself. The picture in the report depicted scruffy blond hair and a pale face spattered with freckles, haunted eyes gazing at the camera with undisguised wariness. The Lucian clothes hung off of him too loosely, a sure sign of his ordeal, as this was no ordinary member of Niflheim’s troops. A powerful Guide himself, they were well on their way to breaking him when Cor intervened, risking himself for a random Guide, a random _boy_ who had a chance to save. Fortunately, they didn’t call him the Immortal without cause, but the unnamed individual couldn’t be around anyone with the enhanced senses and instincts of a Sentinel or those with the empathetic senses of a Guide.

            Cor was astounding without any aid of Sentinel or Guide abilities, which was probably the only fact that saved his life when the Guide was unrestrained.

            But that meant Noctis couldn’t investigate on his own. And he couldn’t ask Ignis or Gladio to do it for him when it would put both of them at risk. Ignis especially, who insisted on shoving his instincts so far down that he would be a risk if he had not proven himself so capable.

            Most of those assigned to him specifically were Sentinels or Guides as well, so as to better sense a threat. Those he knew well would still be at risk. So they weren’t an option.

            Even though he should have moved on to the rest of the reports, he mind kept wandering back to that particular issue. What Niflheim was doing was wrong, but would it be just as wrong to sacrifice their own people for business that wasn’t theirs? _No_ , he mentally scolded himself. _They would want these people to be safe._ Even so, so many lives depended on the Council’s choices, and the Council was influenced by its King and Prince. One wrong move could be a death sentence to thousands, even millions.

            Noctis didn’t even realize he was gritting his teeth until there was a touch of irritation on his awareness, one that was not his own. While he typically kept unfamiliar minds blocked from his own for his own sanity, there was nothing unfamiliar about Ignis.

            A quiet click in the lock warned of his entrance before Ignis stepped inside. For the most part, he had no tells. Ignis was a master of keeping his thoughts wrapped in a diplomatic façade. Good Guides and those that Ignis let get close could see under it, but the turmoil roiling underneath his shields was enough to have Noctis up and taking his hands, frowning in concern.

            “Specs? What’s got you so riled up?” he murmured. He wanted with all of his power to exert a calming influence over Ignis, but he knew the Sentinel wouldn’t appreciate it. He wanted to ignore everything that made him other than human.

            Ignis looked away from Noctis in order to adjust his glasses. “You read the report I set aside for you.”

            Noctis narrowed his eyes, frown tugging at his lips. “You found out more information about it?” It was the only reason he could think of that would make Ignis so distressed long after the meeting. _Surely he would’ve calmed down by now, right? So we can figure this out._

But Ignis wouldn’t meet his eyes. Every muscle in his body was drawn taut despite the flatness of his expression. “Not quite. I merely discussed with the Marshall the appropriate action to take in regards to the prisoner.” From the corner of his eyes, he saw Noctis stiffen at the terminology, but he remained unmoved. “Despite our positive outlook, he must remain a prisoner until we are safe from his lack of control.” After a tense moment of silence, Noctis sighed in concession of the point. “Right now, he is remaining under guard. He has been conditioned to fear touch, so other Guides can’t even get his emotions under control in that manner. He will have to be approached from afar with all methods of the healing process, so any backlash will be exceedingly messy.”

            The words rang in Noctis’ ears, swamped by horror. _He has been conditioned to fear touch._ Revulsion choked his throat, leaking from his carefully managed shields. _He has been conditioned to fear touch._ Ignis inhaled sharply, gaze narrowing on the distressed Prince as memories flooded his mind.

            _Gladio on his knees, blood dribbling from a cut on his face. Too close to taking the eye, much to close. The drunkard who had attacked them was unconscious, but Gladio was blazing with the need to protect, to keep Noctis safe, and his fear was driving Gladio beyond reason. One steadying breath, two. A hand on his shoulder as he forced the larger man to feel that he was okay. He grounded himself in it, and suddenly, he was soothed, swept into a bear hug by the man whose duty almost blinded him._

_Regis, head in his hands. Not a Sentinel or Guide, struggling with the idea of a son who is forced to deal with the needs of the people beyond a level he could even comprehend. Not used to seeing his father’s distress, Noctis threw himself into his arms, breaking the reserve everyone had spent so long teaching him. Unused to his newly awakened abilities, he couldn’t project the calm that would aid the situation, but being in the arms of his father brought a peace to both of them that they wouldn’t be able to share again in a long time._

_Ignis, stock still in his apartment, eyes distant and unfocused. It would be impossible to miss that he had zoned, lost in one of his senses. With gentle hands and a soothing voice, Noctis brought the other man back to himself, reminding him of the present, of what was important. After the close call with Gladio, he couldn’t stand to see another one of his family, **his brothers** , in such distress._

But this Guide, this Guide couldn’t find refuge in the gentle touches, the soothing words. Someone had _frightened_ him, _broken_ him. He didn’t even realize the force of his anger under Ignis ruffled his hair without warning, fondness coloring his voice with familial affection. “I know you are justifiably angry, but we certainly can’t figure this out when you’re riled up.” Tightness lurked under his words, a reminder of an upset that he hadn’t yet shared.

            Yet, Noctis had a feeling he knew what it was. When Ignis was dealing with a stressful situation, he would often try to take refuge in the world around him, reveling in the sights and sounds.

            For any other individual, it would be a good way to cope. What better way to ground yourself than firmly in the present?

            Ignis, however, was incredibly prone to zoning in those times of stress, throwing himself into the sounds of life until he forgot the world around him. He wouldn’t talk about it with anyone; duty silenced his tongue so he wouldn’t be deemed inefficient.

            So instead, Noctis took a deep (if shaky) breath, and turned to flop onto the couch. “What does Cor plan to do about fixing it, then?”

            Ignis wandered into the kitchen to gather the ingredients for dinner, lifting his voice just enough to be heard. “Guides will be kept at maximum range, and they will be required to start small. He wants to see if they can gradually tighten his mental shields until he can hold them himself, and they’ll hopefully be able to get closer with each success. Thus, every step closer will strengthen his shields, and so on.”

            Noctis fought to not chew on his lip in thought, a habit that still tried to surface despite his work towards the contrary. “Do you really think that’ll work, Specs?”

            A sigh drifted from the kitchen. “We can only hope.”

 

*           *           *

 

            _PainFearLoudFearFEAR!_

_DisgustPainPainFearAngerAnger…_

It didn’t take him long to distinguish those on the outside of his tiny room by their emotions. It had always been that way, even when the walls were black and so, so small. He thought these people wanted to help him, that’s what the warm man had said, but everything here _hurt so much._

            His hurt was hurting the people outside the door. It all fed into itself, pain feeding pain, fear feeding fear, the snake eating its own tail…

            His nails drew blood sometimes. Was it his or someone else’s? He couldn’t remember, it was all the same. His thoughts bled into everyone else’s, he couldn’t tell who was who, who was him, _who was he?_

            He thought the warm man came back. But instead of warm, he was _cold_ and _afraid_ and they were like splinters in his already shattered mind.

            Where was he?

            Sometimes he heard crying. Was it his? When he remembered himself, his throat was raw and swollen. Maybe not his. He didn’t know.

            There was always pain. When the people outside hurt too much, they switched with other people. Some returned with healing wounds in their heart from his backlash.

            Did he want to hurt them? He didn’t think so. But he didn’t know how to stop. He didn’t know how to soft.

            People came by, but they had walls around their minds. He could only pick up bits and pieces, but he knew that people with walls were stronger and he was weak, so weak, and they could hurt him if they wanted to, so he screamed at them to go away. Was it his voice or emotions? He couldn’t tell.

            Then there were the _soft_ people. Their minds were so open to him, to his projecting. He knew they could protect him from this scary place, from himself, if only they would let one in. But they stopped coming by when one attacked his guards.

            _AloneAloneScaredFearFearPainPain…_

            So trapped was he in his thoughts that he almost didn’t notice when it began to change.

            It started small. The edges of his projections seemed to crumple, sending all that excess emotion back on him. The feedback was small in the beginning, a mere spark in the torrent, but it grew with uncomfortable speed.

            The ones with the walls. He _knew_ they would hurt him! He _knew!_

            Without holding back, he howled, trying to shove back.

            Anguish slid from the walls around him, unable to breach their minds. But on the outskirts, one with a soft mind… Without any other release for the pain, he sliced deep, and their pain only fueled his agony in a loop of suffering.

            A new howl echoed through the halls.

 

*           *           *

 

            Nothing could compare to the blazing agony that poured through his veins, lighting his body on fire. The world dissolved into a blurred haze as the prisoner’s emotions broke through all of his mental walls, bringing with it the instincts he had spent most of his life struggling to crush.

            Ignis almost couldn’t recognize the sound that ripped through his throat as his own voice.

            _How could he be left to suffer like this?! Why hasn’t someone helped him?!_ In the back of his mind, underneath the feral rage that rioted within his very being, rationality told him that he hadn’t been left, that everyone was doing their best, but-

            Arms fastened around him from behind as he fought to reach the guards, a snarl distorting his face. The scream that followed tasted of blood.

            _“Ignis! Ignis, calm down! Bring up your walls!”_

            Ignis thrashed in the grip before he threw his head back, skull connecting with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered down the back of his neck with a gurgle, and his attacker _(Noctis, that’s Noctis)_ staggered back with a grunt of pain.

            _“Someone bring Gladiolus or Clarus before he hurts someone!”_

            The guards came forward to restrain him, but he had been trained to protect the Prince _(he’s hurt, I hurt him, blood, I smell blood!)_ and they could hardly prevent his progress to the door.

            As suddenly as the fury began, an emotional blanket was draped over his mind. A pause in the onslaught of constant fear and pain allowed Ignis to bring back up his shields, but all of his senses felt fresh, too raw and new. Noctis knelt on the ground before him, clutching his hands to his nose as he watched his Advisor with wary eyes.            

            He had put that look there.

            The scent of metallic blood brought him to his knees before his Prince. _So much… So much… How can there be so much?_ He knew he had to be calm, he knew he had to find that blessed calm and reserve, but it slipped through his fingers like fine sand, useless in his grip.

            Noctis, the guards, the blood, the prisoner. The scents drew all of his attention, enticing him closer. _Maybe I could understand, if I just…_ If he couldn’t grab the calm he needed, maybe he could ground himself in this reality. Eyes closing, he focused on the clarity of the smells around him, stretching his senses as far as they would reach.

            “Specs! Damn it, Specs, don’t you dare zone on me now!”

            The voice seemed so far away. How could it be so quiet, when his hearing was enhanced? No matter, he needed to make sure they were safe. That _Noct_ was safe.

            Clarus? Was that the King’s Shield coming? Anger spiced his odor, making it uncomfortably sharp. Gladio, reliable Gladio, and then the King himself…

            Guards, so many guards…

            Then, fresh air, tinged with warm sunshine and flowers. The smell of the city, all of its people…

            Reality and the present sense bled away into wonder, soothing the wounds on his frightened soul. Why focus on anything else when the world was such a marvelous place?

            Why live in stress when he could have this?

 

*           *           *

 

            It shouldn’t have gone to hell so quickly. Gazing at Ignis, their Iggy, restrained to the bed in a ward reserved for dangerous Sentinels, Noctis couldn’t help but be struck by lack of reality in the situation.

            Dull, throbbing pain in his face was a clear reminder as to why they were there, though the doctor had been able to clarify exactly _how_ everything had gone to shit. Gladio stood by his side in stalwart support, and Noctis was grateful now more than ever for the other man’s loyalty, both to himself and Ignis.

            Ignis’ complete denial of his instincts meant that he had no idea how to handle them when they left his control. According to the doctor, it was amazing that he had maintained enough sense of self to prevent from doing more damage.

            They all knew it was within his power. He could’ve killed them all.

            Sentinels had to be monitored, evaluated, and taught when their abilities awakened to ensure this sort of mess didn’t happen. Someone, likely many someones, would be fired before the day was over.

            But on top of all of it, the sheer trauma and anguish of the situation had sent Ignis spiraling from his mind, right into a zone. And from the prisoner’s raw force, his mind was too raw to try and Guide him back to reality.

            On the other hand, the din from the prisoner’s room had halted when Ignis had zoned. Almost as though once he had mentally “sensed” how Noctis had calmed Ignis down, he had done it to himself. All of the Guides insisted that he had figured out how to throw up walls from the contact with both Noctis and Ignis’ minds. That meant he was safer, but Ignis was still…

            Noctis clenched his fists. He had thought Ignis would be safe. He thought they were far enough away. But when the Guides had tried imposing the walls around the prisoner’s mind, the terrified Guide had panicked. Everyone had the mental walls to push him back when he lashed out, everyone except Ignis, an unbonded Sentinel, a _distressed_ Sentinel.

They were lucky the prisoner hadn’t driven him completely insane.

Noctis hated it when doctors told him how _lucky_ he was. It made his knee throb with remembered pain. Ignis wasn’t _lucky_. Ignis was locked away. Ignis was restrained to the bed as though he were a danger, and Noctis hated the flare of uncertainty that arose to spike in tandem with the pain in his nose.

Ignis had broken it. His face was already a patchwork of blue and purple (though the doctors had already set it, thank goodness) and he knew that Specs would be horrified if he could see it.

            But now it was up in the air if Specs could even come out of this.

            Iggy wouldn’t come gently scold him for his messy home, or pretend that he was going to make him do his homework. Iggy wouldn’t be there to make sure he ate. Iggy wouldn’t be there to give that undignified snort at stupid puns at the Prince’s expense, or give him the smallest of smirks when meetings would drone on forever and Noctis would be worn out and ready to faceplant into his papers.

            At his rising distress, Gladio leaned ever so slightly in an offering of support (he could scent how upset he was, Astrals damn the senses of Sentinels that got them into this mess in the first place). “Iggy is too strong to be beaten by this. You know that.” Skirting at the edges of his mind was Gladio attempting to outpour comfort, even though it should’ve been the return. Despite that understanding, he closed his eyes and let the reassurance wash over him.

            On the bed, Ignis remained barely breathing, unaware of everything around him.

 

*           *           *

 

            Everything had settled with a click when he felt one of the men with the walls _establish_ shields.

            _Oh?_

With careful slowness, he attempted to pull the emotional extension of himself back within himself, within his sense of being. Almost immediately, pain ripped through his mind, but the memory of the person he had hurt kept flickering at the edges.

            _Reserved, quiet, funny, resolved, quirky, bright, bright…_

Oh, how he had marveled at the mind in his hands, at the beautiful colors and riveting uniqueness. How could someone be so bright, so shining, in a reality so bleak?

            When he tried to share his pain, he had brought something darker to the fore. Something that wanted to help, yes, but something that also wanted to protect and hide and _claim_ , a possessiveness that made him shiver in terror. His fear encouraged the darkness forward, and the horror of his guards brought to life a realization so disgusting that he reeled against it.

            This trauma was one he would have to handle alone.

            No one could help him. His pain brought even worse unto others.

            And so the man, the prisoner, the Guide, once a boy affectionately named Prompto, saw what the other Guide did with his walls and struggled to replicate it, building them up layer by layer.

            He could sense how much everyone else was hurting from his agony. No longer.

            Layer by layer, step by step.

            The emotional clamor dulled to a murmur, a quiet whisper of intents and powerful feeling.

            And despite the height of the walls around him, Prompto cradled the brightness the other mind had shown him close to his heart, its memory like an anchor to ground him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! I love this story, guys, I really do. I hope you all enjoy it, too. This chapter is a little shorter than the previous, but I thought the end of this one was a good place to stop. Please feel free to leave comments or critique, especially if you catch mistakes! As always, thank you for reading! :D

            After he built up his walls, everything changed again. Almost as though those walls were shielding him from more hurt, the rawness in his heart ebbed away. Within days, Prompto was able to tolerate the guards outside of his door without lashing out, and the minds he could reach no longer felt like invasive fragments in his own awareness.

            And, as though his captors were awaiting this moment, they began to enter his room.

            His own panic nearly ripped through his fragile new shields, but the man who had entered was one he had recognized. The person who had saved him from that metal hell. _Cor._

“You’ve calmed down,” came the murmur as Cor looked around the wreckage of the room. “We were worried about your abilities to return from the state you were in.”

            Prompto scooted back on the bed, keeping his arms wrapped around himself as though they had the power to protect him from his ghosts. At his silence, Cor frowned ever so slightly, and he took a small step forward. “Prompto? We need to make sure you’re under control. And then you can be trained so these abilities of yours won’t hurt others or yourself.”

            Prompto understood. Of course he understood. He could feel everyone’s hurt, everyone’s pain, if only he stepped outside of those walls, that delicate shield…

            But he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to hurt people, and he didn’t want to be hurt _by_ people. Those emotional wounds were much too new to let anyone breach the barrier.

            When Cor joined him on the bed, offering his hand with a frown on his face and worry gleaming in his eyes, Prompto took it, letting himself be pulled up to stand. The doorway yawned open before him, a once inescapable barrier now torn wide for him to step through, if only he were brave enough.

            Fear still clogged his throat and his heart still ached, but he finally felt as though moving forward, merely healing, was in his grasp.

 

*           *           *

 

            A waft of coffee. _Coffee? Where-?_

The lightest of touches on his gloves. He was wearing gloves.

            With those two points of awareness, Ignis remembered _himself._ There was a _he. Existence._

Every other sensation returned with agonizing slowness. The room was comfortably muffled to prevent excess sound, for which Ignis was grateful. Anything other than the breathing of the others in the room with him and their heartbeats would’ve likely been too much. He didn’t even want to open his eyes.

            The scents with him were that of Noctis and Gladio. The worry that colored the smell like alarm flags brought a hitch to his breath; he did not mean to distress them so.

            But it was Gladio waving the Ebony in front of his nose. At the realization, he snorted, and finally opened his eyes.

            While Noctis still looked caught in a storm of fear and anger, Gladio grinned at him, the expression both a baring of teeth and a sign of genuine joy. “There we go. Told you that Ebony would work.”

            Noctis’ stormy expression morphed into a scowl. “Why the hell would coffee wake him up when we couldn’t? Or the doctors? Literally anything except coffee?” He shot a glare at Gladio. “What would wake you up, then? One of those erotica novels you like so much? Distelled sex itself?”

            Astonishment gave way to fury as Gladio twisted around to snarl at Noctis, but they were both interrupted by Ignis, who had let out a snort of laughter at their antics. He couldn’t help it, not when his two favorite people were bickering like school children about something so innane. Though they spent almost a minute watching him with stunned faces, they soon began snickering as well. When he got himself under control, he sent Noctis a reassuring smile. “There’s nothing to be offended about, I can assure you. Coffee merely has a strong scent, and I drink it often enough to associate it with home and comfort. My apologies, Noctis, but you don’t stink. That would be quite unbefitting for a prince, don’t you think?”

            Despite his intent being to comfort, Noctis’ eyes filled with tears. Ignis got a distinct flash of memory at the sight, of Noctis holding him tight after a nightmare. He would always have to promise that he wouldn’t go anywhere, that he’d be okay, for the boy to calm down. Only now, they were both men and reality was all too clear.

            Noctis’ voice cracked just a little. “Ignis, you didn’t tell us you had gotten so bad. The doctors… Astrals, Specs, they said that he wouldn’t have gotten you so bad if you weren’t already a mess inside. You’re not a monster. You just want someone to protect, you know? And you won’t let yourself get that close to me, to really satisfy what your instincts want, right?”

            At the words, Ignis flinched, turning his gaze away. “That would be crossing the line of professionalism. It is _beneficial_ -“ The word was spat with enough venom that Gladio couldn’t help a rumble of warning. “-that your guards be Sentinels. I will protect you until my last breath. You know this.”

            Without warning, everyone in the room could shift when Noctis’ distress shifted to anger. It caressed their minds like the whisper of a hurricane before it strikes, and, startled, green eyes swung around to meet deep blue. A harsh edge coated Noctis’ tone as he stepped close to the bed. “You’re my friend, Ignis! You’re more to me than your _damned_ title, than your _job_ , and you know that! _You know that!_ You know I want you to take care of yourself! This… This… If you had only talked to us, if you _told_ someone, we would’ve helped you!”

            The challenge snapped something in Ignis, but Gladio’s heavy hand on his shoulder prevented him from sitting up. He was too frayed, too raw. What use were rebuilding walls when there was nothing left to build them with? “What’s the use, _Your Highness_?! You know there are nobles watching us like damned vultures, waiting for me to slip up, to declare me unsuitable, just to get someone close to the Prince! Nothing can change, or I would’ve changed it already!”

            Echoes of his own voice rang in his ears, much too loud for their levels of sensitivity, but Noctis merely froze instead of responding with yelling of his own. Frost settled over his eyes before he stormed out of the room, the heavy step of his boots trailing him out.

            A gasp tore free, but Gladio continued to hold him down. When Ignis started to growl in response, however, Gladio only chuckled, eyes softening. “Relax, Iggy. The kid’ll be fine. You’re right, you know? You aren’t obligated to tell us anything, and people would’ve used it against you.” He turned his gaze away, not wanting to meet Ignis’ eyes while the other was so riled. “But Noct’s right, too. We care about you. And we would’ve done our best to help. We can’t change the past, but we change the future.” His brow creased, though the scar tugged at the expression to make it more fierce than necessary. “We have your back, Iggy. Just like you have ours.”

            The words brought Ignis to a halt in his struggles to sit up, and he focused on the other man with wide eyes as what he said settled in his heart. For a moment, his mind churned in an attempt to process, but soon he looked down at his hands, distress giving way to a sad smile. “We’ll deal with what comes as it comes. I’ve hurt the Crown Prince both physically and emotionally. The King has every right to declare me unfit.”

            Gladio responded with a slow nod. “You’re right. But His Majesty is fond of you. He will probably be forgiving in this regard, so long as you can ensure it doesn’t happen again.” There was a pause before he continued. “You know he’ll try to find you a guide.” Underneath his hand, he felt Ignis’ muscles go taut. “Easy, Iggy. It’s true. You’re not handling this well on your own.”

            Ignis’ voice was practically a hiss. “I don’t want to be _handled_. I am a reasonable individual. I am _human._ I am fine on my own.”

            Gladio’s gaze saddened as amber eyes flicked over to watch the other man. “Yes. You’re fine on your own. Only, you attacked the Crown Prince. And anyone with a half decent nose or emotional sense knows that you are unhappy with the hand you’ve been dealt.” He crossed his arms. “Were you anyone else, I’d tell you to suck it up and move on. But obviously, that’s not gonna work with you. We have to find some sort of solution, Iggy.” He let that settle in for a moment before pressing onwards. “At least let me introduce you to some Guides. You _are_ allowed to have a life outside of the Prince, you know. And this isn’t a punishment. We want you to be happy.”

            Ignis sighed, making sure the other man could hear his displeasure in the tone. It wasn’t often that he was so heavy handed at expressing himself, but desperate times called for desperate measures. “I will not prevent you from going forward with these introductions. I ask, however, that you confine your search to the Citadel; if I must go forward with this, they must be someone who understands my obligations to the Prince and Crown above all else.”

            Gladio merely nodded again. “Of course. You can count on it.”

            The pair fell into a silence, and for those with their senses so altered, it almost seemed as though the very world was shifting into place, fate pushing them ever forward.

 

*           *           *

 

            The first person Prompto was allowed to meet outside of Cor was only let in because he apparently had greater authority. Thus, despite his allowance, he could sense the beginnings of Cor’s irritation.

            But the newcomer soon had all of Prompto’s attention. His mind was awfully familiar, but it was still much too guarded for him to get a good read on him. Tufts of black hair was what his eyes were drawn to first, almost as though deliberately arranged to make his hair look messy. Next were the deep blue eyes that swept him in with frigid coolness.

            The tight, icy voice matched the eyes in its flatness. “Is he decently under control now, Cor?” For a split second, barely restrained anger touch Prompto’s tender mind, and a whine escaped his throat before he could help it. Cor took his arm with a frown and shot the newcomer a glare.

            “Leash it, Your Highness. Don’t hold what happened to your Chamberlain against him.” He took a deep breath to respond, but Cor cut ahead. “You can’t let your temper get the best of you around him. Do not forget that he was horribly abused. This is supposed to be a safe space for him. A sanctuary.”

            A gentle exhale. A softening of the eyes, a melting of the ice. Prompto watched him, shaking, as he took in the empty sparring room, Prompto against the wall with Cor, no weapons in sight. Then he sighed, focusing on Prompto again. “I do want to help. Truly. I just…” Shoulders slumping with weariness, he rubbed his eyes. “Astrals, everything has gone to hell so swiftly. Here, let me help. I’ll bet he could use a distraction.”

            _Distraction?_

            The newcomer, _Noctis_ , gave him a small smile at the sight of his eyes lighting up with evident curiosity. “I’ll bet you like the sound of that, huh? Sitting in that room with nothing to do and no one to talking to must be boring. Nothing to stop the memories. I know what it’s like.” Every movement forward was slow, cautious. _Wary_. But the fear Prompto expected never came. Instead, he found himself desperately curious, and he was able to hold still as Noctis lowered himself to the ground next to him. After a moment of fumbling around in his pocket, he pulled out dice and cards. “Here, we can play a game. Let me teach you, okay?”

            Cor kept a watchful eye on the pair, but Prompto didn’t notice as Noctis guided him into a world of probability and competition. True to his word, the game drew him away from the maelstrom of thoughts and fears brushing against his mind like an over affectionate cat waiting to lash out with sharp claws if acknowledged.

            And he wasn’t alone. He was afraid of everyone else, of their pain hurting him, of the broken ones who did nothing but project agony and terror. But these people were so contained, so _themselves_ , like people had been before the facility. With a barrier of his own to protect him from constant emotional assault, he could appreciate the beauty in everyone’s individuality, everyone’s _uniqueness_.

            He felt _light_ here. Warm. There was still a weight pulling him down, still pain and hurt waiting for their chance, but there would be kindness waiting on the outside of his inevitable crash, he knew there would be. These weren’t vultures, beasts waiting for a sign of weakness to strike. No, he could feel from the people around him that they wanted to _help_ him, help him recover from the facility.

            Why were they so different? Why was he here, when he had been _there_?

            What made him different from all the others that he was treated with such cruelty? Was there something wrong with him?

            But then why had he been saved? Why would people want to help him?

            “Because what happened to you wasn’t your fault.” Prompto jumped with a tiny shriek, clapping his hands over his mouth. Noctis hummed at him and placed a steadying hand on his knee. “Relax. You were just leaking a little, that’s all. And you haven’t done anything wrong. There isn’t some deep evil inside of you.” A soothing thumb rubbed circles on his knee. “Just trust us, okay?”

            Prompto shivered, but the touch was so kind, so gentle. It didn’t _hurt._ He began to lean into it like a flower seeking the sunlight, but remembrance struck like a flash of thunder. Noctis hadn’t been alone the first time he had felt him. There were others, and there was…

            Noctis’ grip tightened on his knee. “Easy, dude, easy. You’re freaking out, and that isn’t good, you know? Um, I don’t really know how to do this…” He glanced at Cor, who only stared solemnly ahead as though they weren’t even there. “Well… Do you want to talk about it? What’s freaking you out? Maybe I can help?”

            Prompto shook his head, then leaned into Noctis’ space, eyes wide. When his mouth opened to speak, his voice was raspy and worn, shredded from the screaming. “Someone… Someone was with you. I hurt them.” Noctis’ face fell, but Prompto pressed onward. “Are… Are they okay?”

            Even such little speaking hurt, and the Lucian words felt odd in his mouth (thank the Astrals he knew Lucian, what if he hadn’t? What if he couldn’t understand?). Yet Noctis understood, as he scooted away slightly. The cooling spot on Prompto’s knee seemed to ache with the loss. “Specs? He’s okay now. Don’t worry about it.”

            His heart clenched as he watched Noctis shut down, as he gave him a false smile like the people from the facility, as he got to his feet and went to the door. “Until next time, alright?” Though it wasn’t icy like it had been in the beginning, his voice was flat. And before he could even respond, he was already gone.

            Prompto clutched his chest, eyes wide as Cor guided him out the door, pressing him down the hallway back to his new home, his empty room. Outside of his walls was stillness.

            Like a candle in a storm, the light flickered from existence.

            Why did he think he wouldn’t be alone? He thought the warmth would stay. He thought he’d feel _good_.

            This wasn’t good. This was empty. Kindness had been yanked away at a simple reminder of what he had done.

            With his focus so tunneled, so lost in hurt, he didn’t feel Cor give him a gentle squeeze before he left. Didn’t hear his offer for help. He was numb, silent.

            Noctis was wrong. He had proven it.

            The thoughts surrounded him like a whirlwind, their cries contained within his walls, but they couldn’t be deafened, and it was all he heard as he went to sleep.

 

*           *           *

 

            Ignis found himself in front of the prisoner’s room more often than he’d like to admit. _Prompto._

            An idle draw, a light tug, two entities gravitating closer and closer together.

            He knew that progress had slowed. According to Cor’s reports, Prompto had full control of his abilities now, having learned how to hold up a wall and how to extend his mental reach. Despite that good news, however, he would share very little about his trauma, and he refused to get close to anyone besides the strange relationship he had with Cor (one that he would describe as like that of a father and son, even though this was Cor they were talking about).

            The closest they had come was with Noctis. But even the prince had admitted that whenever he thought he was getting close, when he thought Prompto was beginning to trust him, he would pull away as though expecting to be hurt.

            Gladio had been helping Cor with his physical training. Apparently, the young man had been trained before with the use of ranged weapons, with a fondness for guns that was unheard of in Lucian society. The sparring kept him in shape though, and distracted him from whatever thoughts were haunting his mind. A healthy way of coping, was exercise.

            And as for himself?

            Astrals, the past few months had been hard.

            They couldn’t keep him from Noct; both the King and the Prince had objected too strongly for that. But he was still under heavy investigation, and coming up soon was the trial to determine whether or not he could keep his position.

            Attacking the Crown Prince was treason, no matter the cause.

            It would’ve helped if he had found a Guide to steady his nerves, his instincts, his restless energy. Though he had rebuilt his walls after Prompto had so easily torn through them, he could still feel it within him, so much more present than before. Or perhaps he could merely no longer ignore it.

            Yet, Ignis couldn’t find it in himself to be interested in any of the Guides sent his way. A few meetings here and there, even a date or two, but all had ended with the understanding that they were simply unsuited for each other. While the relationship didn’t have to be intimate in nature, there had to be _some_ sort of connection. A connection that Ignis couldn’t form with any of those who visited.

            Gladio was no longer surprised when he turned one down. He met each denial with a worried scowl and creased brow.

            And he kept returning to _the damn door._

            The door he was forbidden to enter. Or even knock. Prompto and Ignis were prevented from meeting since the accident. It would’ve been too easy for the Guide to shred him, and he had hurt the Crown Prince with too much ease the last time.

            But.

            There was something about the Guide that haunted him.

            And if occasionally he felt flashes of emotion that he was certain did not belong to him, why would he share it?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I think this is a slow burn. Is this a slow burn? I dunno, but I updated the tags anyways, hahaha!
> 
> You all have been so kind to me. The support this has gotten has been truly inspiring. So, thank you for sticking with me. I'm glad to have you enjoy this journey with me.
> 
> On that note, hit me up if you catch any mistakes! Also, happy to answer any questions if you'd like, especially if something doesn't make sense! Critique is always welcome!

            The feeling started small, a tiny upset in his shifting world. It would’ve been easy to ignore with all the upheaval, especially since Noctis insisted that he go to therapy to handle his emotions. If push came to shove, Prompto would’ve likely told him that it was just anxiety.

            After three months, though? He knew what his anxiety felt like. And he’d like to think that he and the Crown Prince were even becoming friends, despite his reservations. Noctis just had a way of sucking people in; underneath all the aloofness, he was really just a big dork. Even when those old thoughts crept back in, that he was a monster, that he wasn’t good enough, Noctis would find a way to deflect it.

            Then there was Cor. Prompto felt… Something for Cor, but he didn’t know how to name it. Safe? Perhaps. The older man helped him with his training fairly often, and they often called him in when his emotions got out of hand. For the King, Cor acted as Prompto’s representative for the Council; without his support, he doubted he would’ve been allowed to keep his little room in the Citadel.

            Gladio was a breath of fresh air from all the politics of his existence. Prompto thought he was terrifying, but sparring with Gladio helped him relax in a different way. Gladio didn’t care about appearances, about what he was. Just like with Noctis, Prompto could just be Prompto.

            And Ignis? Well, he never really saw him. That was per the restrictions, of course, but every so often, he would see him wandering the halls like a wraith. He knew that he had gotten the man into a whole pit of trouble, but Noctis really wouldn’t share how that was going. He got really close-mouthed about Ignis (Specs? Iggy? Depended on who was talking?), so Prompto had stopped asking. Their friendship was too new, too delicate, to strain over his own curiosity.

            But something had started burning in the corners of his mind. It felt both like him and not like him, part of his essence and part of something external. It was different from the occasional tug he had towards Ignis. This was darker, a growing menace festering up from a place deep inside him that he didn’t want to name.

At first, he dismissed it. Easy to mistake things when your emotional reach can touch half the Citadel when unaware.

When it began to grow, as though something were getting _closer_ , he mentioned to his therapist. A bonded Guide herself, she asked if she could feel when he was feeling, and he shared it with only a touch of reluctance.

But she only shook her head. “I think you must be picking up something out of my reach. Whatever you’re sending just feels like dread to me, and that’s all you. Just let me know if it gets worse, okay? Maybe we could prescribe you something to dampen your abilities for a bit.”

Dampen them? But that would be like taking away one of his senses! His mouth fell open to protest, but she chuckled and waved her hand.

“Not forever. It wouldn’t work that long anyways. I’m sure there’s just something out there that you’re resonating with, and we’ll just put your Guide senses on hold until it’s gone. If it’s still there after your prescription runs out, we’ll have to search for another option, especially since you’re feeling it within your shields.”

Prompto worried at his lip, careful not to bite down hard enough to bleed. Would it really go away? It felt like it was getting closer.

But he gave a slow nod, voice quiet as he murmured, “If it gets worse, I want to try it. I hate not being able to shut it out, whatever _it_ is.”

Though the therapist smiled at him and he could feel her approval at the surface of her mind, he couldn’t squash his unease.

 

*           *           *

 

            Despite his clear reluctance, the therapist had him on the Guide dampening medicine within just a few days. Instead of a constant maelstrom just on the outskirts of his mind, there was a both blessed and distinctly uncomfortable numbness.

            The festering in the back of his mind was gone, however, and that was an immediate relief.

            Relieved was without a doubt the first emotion he felt upon waking the next morning, followed by a panicked squawk as a weight landed on his bed.

            The mattress kept bouncing as he peered out from the sheets to meet those big blue eyes, wide with a sparkle of excitement. Smugness permeated his expression. “Prom, you gotta get dressed! We go clearance, we’re going camping!”

            Prompto gaped for a moment. “Umm. Camping?” He had to mentally fish for the word, but nothing came. Noctis was excited about it, _obviously_ , but he thought Gladio may have mentioned the activity before. He had made it sound as though Noctis didn’t like camping, however, and that didn’t even come close to answering the question of what it _was._

            Prompto’s confusion only seemed to encourage Noctis, who bounced again. “Yes, camping. You, me, Gladio, and Specs were given clearance to go outside the Wall! You’ll finally get to see _stars_ , Prompto!”

            Outside the Wall? Camping was outside the Wall? He continued to gape dumbly for a moment before the rest of the words caught up with him. _Stars._ He’d get to see _stars_.

            In order to acclimate him to Lucian society, his therapist had provided a number of books for him to become acquainted with what he might hear. One of them was a book on photography, a book that he treasured for the beauty it encaptured, and it was there he discovered _stars._

            Noctis had been so upset when he asked about them one night. Prompto kept looking up at the sky, searching for the stars, but the magic of the Wall burned much too bright. For a moment, he would think he’d catch a glimpse, but the image would distort itself beyond visibility before his very eyes.

            But he never expected he would do something about it. Realistically, he was just a prisoner of war that the Citadel had accidentally adopted.

            And yet…

            A gentle clearing of the throat drew his attention to behind Noctis, where another man stood. Not Gladio, but…

            Instinctively, he tried to reach for his mind before he remembered that those abilities were gone.

            _Ignis._

            The man bowed curtly, keeping his voice soft. “I don’t believe we’ve officially met. Prompto, I am Ignis Scientia, current Chamberlain to the Crown Prince.”

            Prompto continued gaping.

            After a moment of silence, Ignis rose from his bow. “I will be accompanying His Highness on this camping trip that he has so enthusiastically planned. As such, the restrictions preventing our meeting have been temporarily lifted, especially as your Guide abilities have been medically dampened. There will be little risk with us travelling together, and-“ He pursed his lips, the only outward sign of his displeasure. “-even the Council has admitted to my competence in caring for His Highness for the time being. Let us make sure not to have any incidents, shall we?”

            He offered his hand, and Prompto gulped before taking it in agreement. “O-of course, sir.”

            Noctis snorted at him, swatting their hands apart as he flopped the rest of the way onto Prompto’s bed. “Dude, you don’t have to call Specs ‘sir’. It’s a camping trip, not some fancy meeting.” Ignis quirked an eyebrow, to which Noctis let out an eloquent whine. “It’s not! A trip between friends! It’s supposed to be fun, you guys!”

            The other eyebrow joined the first. “Fun? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that term to describe camping before. At least, not any of the trips you’ve gone on with Gladio, of which you’ve been on quite a few.”

            Noctis covered his eyes with his arm, groaning. “It’s _different_! Come on, Prom, back me up here!”

            Prompto tore his gaze away from Ignis to shove his friend off of his legs. “Dude, you can’t ask me that! I barely know what camping _is_! How am I supposed to answer that?”

            From Ignis’ section of the room came an amused huff. “It’ll stoke the campfire of your friendship, I’m sure.” Noctis groaned again, and it took Prompto a moment to comprehend what had occurred before he shot Ignis a glare.

            “You make jokes! That was a _pun!_ ”

            A smirk tugged at Ignis’ lips as some of his tension abated, though he tried to hide it by offering a mock bow. “I am a man of many talents, I assure you.”

            Before Prompto could even manage to react, Noctis snatched a pillow and chucked it at his Chamberlain, who was still straightening up and found himself unable to avoid a sound thwack on the face. His stunned expression reduced Prompto to giggles, which, upon both of their surprised looks, he tried (and failed) to stifle with his hands.

            Noctis’ lips quirked up as well, and soon they were a laughing mess together, their hoots and snickers filling the room. Not even Ignis could resist a few quiet chuckles of his own before he patted Noctis’ shoulder. “Now, if you could urge Prompto to get dressed and head to your rooms, I shall begin lunch and we can prepare for our journey. I’m sure Prompto wouldn’t mind some assistance with choosing what to pack?” At the nervous nod of assent, Ignis merely hummed and pressed onward. “We’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. Though we may only be gone for a few days, all precautions must be taken, as you well know, Your Highness.”

            Noctis acted as though he were going to pout, taking Prompto’s other pillow to throw at his advisor. This one he dodged with ease and a smirk as Prompto let out a honk of protest, forgetting his nerves in light of his petulant friend. “Hey! That’s mine!”

            Noctis ruffled his fluffy blond hair, which became almost gravity defying at the contact. “Wrong. Everything in the Citadel is technically mine, which means I can throw whatever I please. Besides, you needed the encouragement to get up, your head looks like a chocobo butt in the morning.”

            Prompto pushed Noctis off the bed with a grumble. “It does not!”

            “It would not do well to compare one’s friends to birds. Such behavior tends to ruffle feathers.”

            _“Ignis!”_

*           *           *

 

            “So, what do you think of Blondie, now that you’ve officially met him?”

            Ignis sighed, adjusting his glasses as he hefted the travel bags over his shoulder. He made sure not to make eye contact as Gladio lifted the rest with ease. “Flighty. Not surprising, given the trauma he has experienced. Eager to please. One might draw a comparison between him and a lost puppy.”

            Gladio snorted, remaining at Ignis’ side despite his longer stride. Privately, Ignis wished he would move on and leave him in peace on the way to the car, but he was well aware that that was quite a bit to ask for when it came to Gladio. “You certainly don’t sound like you find him threatening. Like he’s not the same one who nearly drove you mad.”

            For a brief moment, he entertained the idea of getting Gladio in the knees with the bags for his trouble. “I do not hold him at fault for what happened. You know this.”

            Upon reaching the Regalia, Gladio popped open the trunk and began moving their belongings inside, taking the bags that Ignis had been carrying. He remained silent for a moment to parse together his thoughts. “Yes, I know. Doesn’t look like the ticking time bomb he started out as. Made a lot of progress, huh?” Ignis nodded but remained silent. “And you… Astrals, Iggy, you’ve made almost no progress at all. Even though I’m your friend, I would doubt your abilities to take care of the Crown Prince, too, you know?”

            Ignis stiffened, fixing him a cold, disinterested look. Unperturbed, Gladio stared him right back down. “You can try and hide it from everyone else, but I’ll be damned if you hide it from me. You’ve never been this aggressive when you train, and you’ve been short tempered with most of your staff. On top of that, you can barely handle the sounds of the city. Why do you think I suggested camping? I sure as hell couldn’t take you to the festival. Even now, the sounds are too much, aren’t they?”

            Ignis looked away, letting his shoulders drop. “I know you have your concerns. But I promise you, Gladio, that I have this under control.”

            The trunk slammed shut, but Gladio didn’t glance away from the sleek vehicle for a long moment. “I was hoping that if you two could become friends, like Noctis did, you would be able to move past this. That with another Guide to support you, even one you’re not bonded to, you would let yourself heal.” He exhaled. “This is a start, okay? You’re going to have to get used to him anyways, if the Council lifts their restriction on the two of you permanently. Noct is pretty fond of him, which is good because the kid isn’t any damn good at making friends at school. You know how it is.”

            Ignis nodded again, and with only minor hesitation, let his gaze focus on Gladio. “I have nothing against Prompto. I will be on my best behavior for the camping trip. We will all return bettered and more comfortable with one another, and Prompto will have another fun experience under his belt. Besides-“ Gladio perked at the light tone he let enter his voice. “He enjoys my cooking. It would be remiss of me to disappoint.”

            After a second to process, Gladio guffawed, giving Ignis a playful shove. “Don’t let it get to your head, _Chamberlain_. Otherwise I’ll have to beat that ego back out when we spar.”

            Ignis swatted at his hand with an indignant sniff. “If you insist. But you best not complain when you get toast for breakfast.”

            The groan that answered those words rose unfiltered into the air, even as Ignis ducked out of the way of a “furious” cuff.

 

*           *           *

 

            “You rented chocobos?!”

            The squeal of unfiltered delight made the Sentinels in the party flinch, but Prompto ran forward, undeterred, at the sight of the yellow birds. He couldn’t control the grin that took over his expression; Cor had insisted on means of travel that didn’t use chocobos, but he had always wanted to see one. When one bumped him its beak to kweh at him in demand, his heart all but melted.

            Judging by Noctis’ smirk, his happiness was leaking out of him like an unending creek, but with his hands buried in musty feathers, he didn’t care a bit. As the others discussed their plans, Prompto buried his face in the feathery neck. The chocobo shifted from foot to foot before it began preening his hair, fluffing up its feathers to relax.

            Thus, he interrupted the conversation with a happy whine. “Guys, guys, I’m literally gonna die. I’m gonna die. It’s _grooming_ me!”

            Though his vision was obscured by fluff, his hearing was perfectly functional. Noctis was all but giggling, and it sounded like Gladio was trying to stifle laughter in his fist. Even Ignis snuck in a chuckle as Noctis patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you let go of the poor thing? You’ll get to spend all week with them. Besides, she probably thinks you’re her chick or something.”

            “Noct, chocobos are highly intelligent beasts capable of understanding human speech, I doubt most-“ Ignis’ light scolding was cut off by Gladio putting his hand over his mouth, but he jolted back with a hiss.

            Noctis cackled at them, eyes gleaming, as Gladio waved his hand at him. “Quit laughing, brat! You’re not the one who just got licked!”

            Ignis was smirking at them, but shuddered. “Hold your tongue, Gladiolus. You taste absolutely appalling.”

            Prompto giggled into the bird. “Too refined for your tastes, Iggy?” He scrambled into the saddle as the others gracefully mounted. At the nickname, though, Ignis’ eyebrows shot up. “Hey, hey, don’t freak, you all get nicknames!” He stuck his tongue out at him. “Gladio is Gladdy, of course, and even you call Noctis Noct! And he’s the _Prince!_ ”

            Noct tried to smother a laugh in his arm as they encouraged the birds forward, though he had placed himself strategically behind Prompto in case the new rider fell from his mount. “He’s got you there. And you let us call you Iggy anyways.”

            Ignis opened his mouth to respond, but Prompto shot him finger guns, letting his happiness sweep his nerves away. “Or the Igster. What do you think about that one?” A giggle escaped as Ignis battled a scowl and lost.

            “Don’t push it, Prom, he’s making The Face. You never push when he’s making The Face.”

            Ignis’ focus narrowed onto Noctis, and the scowl deepened. “What face?”         

With a laugh, Gladio bumped Ignis’ bird with his chocobo. “Loosen up. This is supposed to be a fun trip.” He kicked his feet and was suddenly racing forward with a whoop of delight. Noctis growled with teasing delight to race after him, and much to Prompto’s dismay, his own chocobo went with the flock.

As his terrified shriek rose in the air, gradually becoming laughter, Ignis felt his scowl soften into a smile, and he chuckled as he encouraged his poor bird after the hooligans in his charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Camping~ camping~ camping~
> 
> Might post my twitter account on here, if you guys were interested in me posting updates on there? Let me know


	4. Chapter 4

         “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Besithia.” Amber eyes remained focused on the researcher even as their bearer wandered the room, fingers trailing over test tubes and chemicals. “Vital secrets, no less. You have changed the game.”

         The elder man sneered as he continued his examination of the child before him. Pale and shivering, she couldn’t have been more than eight, with matted blond hair that fell to her knees. “Vital? No, Izunia, nothing vital. Who cares about one missing Guide when I have so many? Like this one, for instance.” He dug his thumb into her arm, and they could both feel the backlash of fear. Instead of drawing a reaction, however, Verstael’s sneer sharpened. “She’ll make such a lovely MT. Such strength for one so young.”

        Ardyn narrowed his eyes, but stalked close to peer at the girl. When she brushed against his mind, she opened her mouth to scream in horror and disgust before trying to scramble backwards. Verstael swore, locking his grip with a growl. “Quit meddling with my research, Chancellor! You know how they react to you.”

        The chancellor turned an unpleasant smirk on the man as he fought the Guide, struggling to bring her back under control. “I’ll quit my ‘meddling’ when you tell me about the missing Guide, Besithia. The one that seemingly vanished in the middle of a one man raid on the Primary Magitech Facility a few months ago. You reported the missing documents, but not the soldier. Interesting omission, wouldn’t you think?” Verstael clenched his jaw as Ardyn’s smirk twisted into a sneer. “Why don’t you let me help you? NH-01987 was of your own DNA, correct? One of your ‘children’.”

        Verstael wrinkled his nose at the wording. “Only to increase the likely-hood of developing Guide abilities. You know that. You know it runs in my family. I have no particular fondness for the MTs I produce, of my get or not.”

        One fine eyebrow quirked upwards. “Is that so? Well, you’ve noted in your reports that this soldier had outstanding talent. So much so that you were concerned he might break the loop holding the others in check.”

       “Correct.” The scientist waved over a MT to take the child away, noting how she sagged with relief once away from their presence, though uncertain if the severity of her reaction was due to Ardyn in particular. All Guides were horribly repulsed by his mind, he found.

       “His nurses called him ‘Quicksilver’ before his testing began, did they not? Such a quaint little nickname. In Lucis, one might bastardize it to ‘Prompto Argentum’.” Verstael stilled when the implications set in. “I won’t bore you with what you’ve already noted from your reports on Lucian activity. But I will point out that a particular Prompto Argentum came with the return of Cor Leonis to the Citadel.” Sneering lips curled back into a snarl. “Which means one of your Guides is in Lucian hands. I will be getting him back, and I would be praying that the Astrals make this situation salvageable.”

       With a sweep, he turned to leave the room, only to pause as he tipped his hat on the way out the door. “Or perhaps not. The Astrals aren’t ones to listen to mere mortals such as us.”

       It was Verstael’s turn to scowl when the Astrals were mentioned, but Ardyn was already gone.

 

*           *           *

 

            With their travels came miracles of a kind Ignis never expected to see. Frankly, he had stopped looking for them.

            Noctis being awake in the morning to spend some time with Prompto by the fire, either looking at photos or playing games? Once could’ve been a fluke. Three mornings in a row was a blessing. Under each other’s care, the men thrived. When Prompto was encouraged out of his shell, he was full of a passion for life unmatched by any other. His energy, much to everyone’s delight, had no end.

            And Noctis? Well and truly having a peer had done more to set his mind at ease than either Ignis or Gladio had been able to on their own. Underlying both of their relationships with the prince was the knowledge that they had been raised into their roles, but with Prompto, there could be no doubt.

            So they settled into an easy routine. Mornings were dedicated to training, though nowhere near as arduous as the sessions in the Citadel. While Gladio worked the younger two into a sweat, Ignis focused on making breakfast for everyone. Meals were easy and full of chatter. How long had it been since he had had a pleasant conversation where he didn’t have to be hyperaware for political implications and scandal?

            Surely he had not been depriving himself so much of company?

            Yet even their Prince’s picky habits only brought fondness rather than prickly worry and irritation. Prompto even managed to rib him into eating a few vegetables before Gladio ruthlessly gave Prompto more protein. The ensuing food shuffling dissolved into chaos, yet Ignis could only chuckle helplessly when Gladio ended up covered in his meal.

            Not even cleaning was tedious. Prompto always insisted on helping, and was always earnest in complimenting his food. The words infused him with no small amount of pleasure; that was what he cooked _for_ , after all. What would the purpose be, if not for the happiness and satisfaction a good meal could bring?

            Even his senses felt relief. Outside of the city with only natural sounds and scents to satisfy him, Ignis was able to relax. His relief must have been plain, as Gladio and Noct became prone to smiling with more ease around him as they too relaxed.

            And Prompto? Well. Prompto was a different story altogether.

            Watching him explore the world around him with newfound confidence that his companions would be there for him was an experience that Ignis could only describe as magical. Being away from the city must have been doing him just as much good. No matter their activity, whether it be fishing, hunting, exploring just for the fun of it, or even taking him out to find the perfect pictures, Prompto remained bubbly and smiling, eyes sparkling with an excitement that felt new and fresh.

            Gladio smirked at him when he expressed this statement, however.

            Not that Prompto was miraculously better, heavens no. No one could ask that of the traumatized man. When it came to touch, one had to be slow and careful; for the most part, they let him approach them, and he was a very tactile person when he so chose. Nightmares were a constant battle. Whoever awoke first would be the one to encourage him out of it. Occasionally, he would hold his head and shiver, as though something plagued him, but it would be better the instant he took his medicine, so Ignis refrained from asking.

            Needless to say, the entire company was scared witless when Prompto abruptly jerked straight up after a lazy nap and screamed, “ _He’s coming!”_

            Gladio looked around in blatant alarm and confusion, but Noctis was prepared, rushing to his friend’s side. “Easy, Prom, what’s going on?” Ignis took a step forward, frowning, only to stop when Noctis held up his hand.

            Prompto whimpered, huddling against Noctis with wide eyes and dilated pupils. “He’s coming, he’s coming, Noct, Noct, we have to _go_ , he’s going to _find us_!”

            At the tingle rising in the back of his mind, that pull that had faded when Prompto began his medicine, Ignis stilled. “Has he had his medicine this morning?” Harsh pants echoed through the clearing as Prompto fought to remember how to breathe, tears streaking down his face.

            Noctis stiffened at the alarm rising in Ignis’ tone. “Stay calm, Specs, jeez. Yes, he’s taken his medicine.” There was a pause as they all felt Noctis’ influence brush against their minds. “He’s not leaking anything. Are you feeling something, too?”

            Prompto keened before Ignis could answer, the sound splitting deep into his soul, and then the pull turned into a tug. Brutal terror carved a path in his mind, and even as he tried to rationalize it, convince himself it wasn’t his, he dropped to his knees. It was _inside_ his shields. How could it be inside his shields?!

            Gladio lunged forward to catch him when he toppled sideways, ignoring the other man as he clutched his head. Ringing was taking over his hearing, even as he tried to yell, to scream, to give voice to this fear _somehow._ Muscles locked as he began to shake, tears blurring his vision.

            Touch was too much. Was someone touching him? Something in his throat shifted, and then he was on the grass.

            Movement through the blur. Was his vision tunneling? Shifting blobs…

            The terror surged again, a pulse that was echoed in his heart.

            A scream through the ringing, one that his training responded to even if his body was incapable. “Prompto! You have to calm down! I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re hurting him!”

            Shaking? Who was shaking him? The movement triggered roiling nausea and he tried to roll away from the touch, gagging through the tremors.

            Babbling. Wretched, sobbing babbling. Prompto?

            Terror gave way to swarming guilt, buzzing under his shields like buzzing gnats, but without the fear holding him, heaviness tugged at his limbs. Was someone saying his name? The ringing heightened to swap away the rest of his hearing.

            Darkness. When did he close his eyes?

            Shaking. Shaking. Horrible burning in his throat.

            His awareness was gone long before he finished puking.

 

*           *           *

 

            Ignis fell, and the world descended into chaos.

            There was a breach in his barriers, he could feel it, but he wasn’t supposed to have access to his Guide abilities at all. When he felt that disgusting darkness slither inside his mind like it had before the medicine, the panic he had felt rivalled nothing he could have even imagine.

            Noctis had said he wasn’t leaking, Ignis was watching him with wary eyes (and didn’t that just sting?), but he could feel it, he could, it was in his mind as though it were in his shields with him, and he wanted so badly to lash out at it and push it away.   

            He pushed against _something,_ pouring all his fear and pain and pent up trauma into whatever yielded.

            The gurgle that responded wasn’t that of a scientist, soldier, or horrible beast.

            It was…

            It was…

            _Ignis?_

            Gladio was trying to turn Ignis onto his side as he retched onto the glowing blue runes of the haven. Pulsing throbbed in his head, and suddenly he recognized exactly what it was; the breach was Ignis, Ignis was inside his shields even when his Guide abilities were supposed to be dormant. And the only reason he noticed was because of the twisting nastiness, closer than it had ever been.

            Whatever it was had pierced the veil that the drugs had placed over his emotional senses.

            And it felt _familiar_ , a tide of horror and nausea that lapped at the shore of his mind with ominous laps, growing rougher and threatening as whatever it was approached.

            But Noctis’ hands clamped down on his shoulders, distracting him from his thought as he jolted, meeting Noctis’ startled eyes with his own. “Prom! I think I know what’s going on, but you have to stay calm, okay?”

            A keen tore at his throat, interrupting what he realized was his own hiccupping tears and frightened babbling. Before he could respond, gentle fingers were coaxing him from the chair and next to Gladio, who grumbled in displeasure and worry as Noctis took his hands and placed them on Ignis’ shoulders.

            “Trust me, Prom, okay? Focus on something that makes you happy. Focus on what grounds you. And spread that feeling out, okay? Like you’re trying to push us with it.”

            What made him happy? What grounded him?

            Images flashed through his mind at a rapid pace.

            Cor holding him through another nightmare, murmuring endless (if stilted) comfort. Video games on a couch that was oh-so comfortable, with Noctis’ lazy warmth on his side.

            The harsh rasping coming from his throat began to quiet. Outside of him and Ignis, he thought Noctis might have pulled Gladio back, but the world was narrowing.

            Just him and Ignis.

            He caused this, he could fix this.

            Sore muscles and the odor of healthy sweat as he sparred with Gladio. _Improving_ , rather than failing over and over again. The warm stretch and pull of his body as he encouraged it to its limits without shredding it to exhaustion.

            The sheer amount of love he could feel outside of his shields before the drugs. Because everyone here really cared for him, even if he struggled with it, even if it was hard to understand. He felt it at every therapist appointment, every time Cor stopped by to have lunch, every time he made progress in sparring. Every sleepover with Noct. Every awkward dinner with the King. All of it.

            And now? Now there were hazy images of Ignis, of his fond smile as he pretended not to hear their bickering but couldn’t help but show it, of that furrow of concentration when a recipe challenged his abilities. The smell of crisp clothing and Ebony. The hint of smugness when he snuck in a pun that he desperately tried to hide.

            Ignis was hurting, underneath all of that. But here, away from the Citadel, he had been happy.

            Through Ignis, through that breach he had ruthlessly attacked, Prompto found that happiness and shared it. He poured the feeling into Ignis despite the stress and the fear, despite his guilt.

            Because right now? Right now, _Ignis_ needed _something_ to hold onto.

            Underneath his hands, shivers stilled, so he began to massage what he could to remove any lingering tenseness. A soft, worn sigh was the only reaction, but a quick glance confirmed that Ignis was unconscious.

            Prompto didn’t know how long he sat there before Noctis tugged on his arm, voice quiet. “Gladio is going to move him to the tent.” When his startled gaze flickered up to that intense stare, he had to fight not to shrink away. “Easy, Prom. I just think we should talk, okay?”

            He didn’t want to talk. He really, really didn’t want to talk. Every muscle cried out for rest, even though it was his heart that was rubbed raw.

            Really, sleeping it off would be great. That’s what Noctis did, right? Sleep until it’s better?

            Even the _rock_ would be fine.

            But Noctis pulled him up to the side of the haven, away from the tent so they could have some semblance of privacy while Gladio set up Ignis in the tent. For a long moment, they didn’t even talk.

            Prompto kept sneaking glances at Noct from the corner of his eyes, but he continued watching the trees for almost a minute until speaking.

            “I think something happened when you got Iggy that first time,” was the murmur, quiet and unsure.

            Fingers twitching in his lap, Prompto looked out over the trees as well. “What do you mean, dude? Besides the obvious?”

            Noctis rubbed his nose as though reacting to a phantom pain. “Yeah. Besides the obvious. You’ve been in Lucis long enough to know that Guides and Sentinels bond to each other of their own choice. That… Well. I’ve heard it described as a link between the minds. The Guide becomes more attuned to the needs of their Sentinel and vice versa. Even through shields.” The look he shot Prompto was unreadable. “Perhaps even drugs, if one of them was frightened enough.”

           Prompto blinked once, then twice. “You… You think we did that. You think…” He heard his voice becoming high and shrill with nerves, but the awareness did nothing to stop it. “Why would we be bonded? We didn’t do anything! Noct, I’ve done nothing but hurt that man!”

           Noctis rested a comforting hand on his knee, tone shifting like he was talking to a spooked animal, like he soothed his chocobo. The resemblance didn’t escape either of them, but Prompto was too panicked for them to care. “No, no, relax. I think you started to form the bond because you both _needed_ something. You needed something outside his pain, and he needed something to protect, to notice his pain and give him a grounding. Think about it, dude. Ignis hasn’t been quite right since that day. At first, I thought it was because he hasn’t really been made vulnerable like that before.

           “But then there was you. You latched on to him, even though you didn’t have control, and you _needed_ him. And he saw something in you worth defending, whether deliberately or subconsciously. It must have started then. But without you, he got lost, even though he grounded you to reality so that you could heal. And the bond loosened and thinned without any attention. On top of that, the medicine wouldn’t have helped that situation at all.”

           Prompto opened his mouth to speak, but Noctis cleared his throat after so much talking and continued, though his eyes twinkled with amusement at the attempt to protest. “Whatever scared you just then, it gave you enough strength to reach for him again. That’s why you were able to help. You’re inside his shields.”

           “Dude, I hardly even know the guy-“

            Noctis hummed. “This will give the opportunity.” Prompto couldn’t manage more than a startled squawk. “Hear me out, man. This could save his career, and help you stay safe. The Council wants Ignis to have a Guide.” Excitement sent him to his feet as everything clicked. “They won’t have a reason to keep you apart if you’re bonded! You could get to know each other, Ignis can keep his job, and once you’re both better, you can end it if you want!”

           When Noctis turned to grin at Prompto, the other man was flushed pink, eyes wide. “What?!”

           Noctis’ grin turned to a smirk. “Come on. We’ll talk to Iggy about it when he wakes up, okay? But it benefits everyone, don’t you see? Both of you need this. Once you’re both better, it can stop if you guys want, but I think it’s our best bet for now.” With a skip in his step, he twisted around to return to the campfire as Prompto gawked.

          Did he just suggest-?

          Did he really think he could-?

          But he thought back to what he had wanted Ignis to have when he tried to calm him down. Everything about Ignis that made him happy.

          There was so much. So much more than he could give voice to.

          Long ago, Prompto had heard that matches, bonds, could only form if you loved someone. He didn’t love Ignis. Everything was merely too much, too soon. How could he expect to give his heart to someone when he was barely holding himself together as it was?

          Maybe he didn’t love Ignis. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that yet.

          But they were already bonded, according to Noctis. And thinking back to how he had been able to help Ignis relax, that ever present tension seeping from his body, he thought that maybe…

          Maybe Ignis deserved for him to give it a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past couple of days have been a little rough, emotionally. Writing has been helping, so I thought I might post the new chapter. A little shorter than usual, but I enjoyed where it ended. As always, feel free to comment or critique, and I'm always up for chatting.


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